


This Terrible Knowledge

by Thinker90



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 03:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4730840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thinker90/pseuds/Thinker90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the truth is terrible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Terrible Knowledge

He should have known. Really. When they turned up at his door, he felt stupid. Because he should have known. And now it was too late. Turning back towards the living room he uttered words that seemed familiar "Ginny! Take the kids and run! I'll hold them off! Get to Arthur's!"

Even as he yelled the words, amid the shouted curses that tore his wards and his door to shreds, he knew he was about to share his father's fate. Was not death the price for arrogance, complacency and stupidity?

In the living room, Ginny heard the sound of rushing death. Could her husband be thrice blessed? Would She intercede on behalf of her Chosen once more? But no. The dull thump of a body hitting the ground was testament to that. There was no desperate mother nor perverted shade to hold Harry James Potter amoung the living.

She tossed her children and herself through the floo, just as a dozen vicious curses and hexes slammed into the fireplace destroying it so thoroughly that only a hole and dust remained where it once was. Such was the hate brought to the fore.

In another place, screams were echoed across the land. The dead bodies of the two children illuminated by the stark moonlight. Hermione Weasley screamed. The retribution swift and accurate like a sword thrust to the heart.

It was only days later that another victim came to light.

Neville Longbottom.

Tortured with the Cruciatus Curse like his parent's before him, if not quite as badly. However the damage was clear. He was paralysed. His senses frayed. He would never tend to his plants with his own hands ever again. He would not be able to feel them.

In a manor somewhere outside Wiltshire, a man with long blond hair stared out the window. Talking to himself. "I was afraid of you. I was in awe of you. You also disgusted me. I do this not for you but for me and those who were twisted by your lies. Lord Voldemort. The half-blood failure. This for the Knights of Walpurgis. Let this be at an end. Morsmordre."

The End


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